


After Hours

by chelseagirl



Series: Alias Investigations [1]
Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 19:52:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13418454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelseagirl/pseuds/chelseagirl
Summary: In their continued quest to figure out something that's legal that they're good at, the now-amnestied Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry have set up a security consulting agency.   This ficlet is just one particular evening at work for them . . .





	After Hours

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the first of the Alias Investigations series. It follows on from the Ella series, but though some of the stories will focus on the guys' personal lives, some will center more on mysteries and etc. that they encounter in the course of their attempt at turning their old skill set towards honest work at Heyes and Curry Security Services and Investigations. Some of them, like this one, don't have any of my pesky Original Female Characters in them (while others will). 
> 
> And yeah, the title's on purpose. My other favorite Jones, besides Thaddeus, is Jessica, and it amuses me that two of my very favorite fandoms have both a Jones and an Alias in them. (For the ASJ fans who don't watch Marvel Netflix Universe stuff, Jessica Jones's PI agency is Alias Investigations.)

It was a quiet night in Laramie, Wyoming. Too quiet, as far as Kid Curry was concerned. Being in a closed bank at night wasn't at the top of his list of favorite things, either, especially now that he'd given up robbing them.

"Okay, Heyes, remind me why we're here again?"

"You know why, Kid. There's a big deposit just got made that's going to head over to Chicago in the morning. Wells Fargo guards'll take care of it once the pick-up is made, but meanwhile they needed someone they could trust."

The Kid made a face. "I'm still getting a pretty big laugh over the fact that we're the ones they can trust."

Heyes grinned in response, his dark eyes sparkling. "Yeah, it is pretty funny. Scariest part is that it's true."

"We're just a pair of old reformed, pardoned outlaws. Pretty sad." Kid Curry chuckled softly.

It was then that they heard the noise.

Heyes drew his gun out of its holster, just in case. The Kid was such a quick draw he didn't need to. The noise seemed to be coming from a side window. It was the most obvious choice for entry, since the bank was on the corner and set slightly apart from the neighboring buildings. The street side would be too conspicuous, but the alley between the bank and the general store next door was ideal.

It's what Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry themselves would have chosen, if they'd still been on the other side of the law.

They moved silently, the thick carpet enabling them to do so without removing their boots. The room was dark, and they flattened themselves against the wall, so that they wouldn't be seen until the intruders were in the room.

There was a cracking noise, as the window was jimmied open, not expertly. Two young men were silhouetted in it, the moonlight showing their outlines but not much else.

"Shhh," one of them said. He clambered over the windowsill a little awkwardly. He was a thin, pale redhead, and he couldn't have been more than eighteen. "Did you hear that?"

"No, Jeff. You're just nervous. Now step aside so I can get on inside."

The speaker was more powerfully built than his companion, but just as young. He had light brown hair, which waved slightly back from a handsome face.

"All right," asked the redhead. "Just where is this money being kept?"

At that moment, Hannibal Heyes stepped in front of the two youths. "I'd forget about the money if I were you."

They turned to flee, but found Kid Curry blocking the window and covering them with his gun. "You know, we used to be just like you once upon a time. And we're here to tell you that crime doesn't pay.”

“Well, actually it does,” said his partner. “It pays quite well. But the point is, being on the run from the law ain't as much fun as it sounds like. We were lucky to get a second chance, but you may not be so lucky."

The two young thieves looked at each other, and then at the speaker.

"You ain't, you ain't . . ." Jeff stammered.

"I'm Hannibal Heyes and he's Kid Curry," supplied one of their captors.

Jeff's friend whistled. "I heard you two got an amnesty from the governor a few years back. Well, I guess just about everybody heard that. Was it a condition of your pardon that you had to hang around in banks trying to reform young criminals?"

Heyes laughed. "No, this is just what we do for fun. Can't really afford to gamble anymore, now that we're honest men."

The Kid suppressed a snicker, and holstered his gun. "Heyes and Curry Security Services. Our motto is, 'It takes a thief to catch a thief.' The bank's proprietors had a feeling somebody would be trying to break in here tonight, so they called us in."

The brown-haired young man spoke. "Well, clearly we've made a mistake. And we'll consider mending our ways. Really we will." He looked at least partially sincere. "So, we'll just be going now."

"Uh-uh," said Curry. "You haven't actually stolen anything, but you've already committed the crime of breaking and entering. We could turn you in to the sheriff, if we'd a mind to."

"But because we were in your position once, we won't. Instead, we'll share with you the long sad tale of a young man who rode the Outlaw Trail," Heyes added.

"So Hannibal Heyes, with his famous silver tongue, is going to share with us stories of his career with the Devil's Hole Gang." The redhead looked positively pleased.

His companion attempted to maintain his cynical demeanor, but he too looked like a schoolboy who'd just been offered a half-holiday.

"Oh, I didn't say it would be me," Heyes grinned wickedly. "Kyle, would you come in here and introduce yourself to these boys?"

The young men's expressions changed completely as they saw the small and unkempt figure of Kyle Murtry approaching.

"Howdy, boys," he droned. "Ya know, not ev'ry outlaw ends up like Hannibal Heyes 'r Kid Curry. Most on 'em are a lot more like me. Come on to th' other room and set a spell, and I'll tell you 'bout it."

The door closed behind them. The former outlaws looked at each other, secure in the knowledge that if the boys had any notion of overpowering Kyle and making a run for it, the imposing presence of Biff Mulligan, a very large former member of a New York City gang, would certainly deter them.

Curry burst out laughing. "Heyes, ain't there a law against cruel and unusual punishment?"

Heyes maintained an expression of the utmost seriousness. "Kid, we're doing those boys a real service. After a couple of hours of Kyle's life story, any thoughts they might have had about a life of crime, well . . . all the glamour and the danger will be gone. If only someone had been there to set us on the right path, like that." He stopped, unable to maintain his composure anymore.

"Sometimes this job is just too much fun," mused the Kid. "Did you see their faces when Kyle came into the room?"


End file.
